(See note [1].)
'etDaq lIy vIlegh
'o'Daq ngab maSwov
HurghchoH 'engmey Dung
chal mInmey vIvan
'IH ramvam wanI'
Human verse forms are organized by a variety of features, including rhyme, stress, syllable count, line count, alliteration, assonance, consonance, syntax, and semantics. The Klingon puSlogh vagh is organized in terms of line count, syllable count, assonance[2], and syllable position, and it is traditionally bounded by emotion.
A puSlogh vagh always has exactly five lines (hence vagh), each with the same number of syllables, but that number varies between one puSlogh vagh and another, at the composer's option. The lines' distinctive vowels are called HoSmoHwI'mey. Each line's HoSmoHwI' is a different one of the five Klingon vowels, and again the composer is free to choose their order through the poem (the HoSmoHwI' tlha'chuqghach).[3] Within each line, two or more of the syllables, defined by position (1st, 2nd, 3rd, ...), are HoSDaqmey and contain that line's HoSmoHwI'; of course, every Klingon syllable contains exactly one vowel. The composer is free to choose the HoSDaqmey, but they must be in the same positions in each line. A line's HoSmoHwI' can occur in other syllables than the HoSDaqmey, but their presence in the HoSDaqmey is essential. The assonances of the HoSmoHwI' hold each line together, and their varied repetitions in the HoSDaqmey from line to line hold the poem together. This is reflected in the traditional terminology of "strengtheners" and "strong points" (or "strongholds").
The number of HoSDaqmey in each line determines the name of the form. In fact, the general term puSlogh vagh is rarely used except when discussing the form itself, as in this article: individual pieces are usually referred to as cha'logh vagh, wejlogh vagh, etc. Two is the minimum number of HoSDaqmey. They seldom exceed four, though some famous longer examples exist. Of course, the number of HoSDaqmey is closely related to the line length, and the intense emotion of a puSlogh vagh is seldom sustained for long. (See the discussion of emotional content, below.) On the other hand, puSlogh vagh are seldom shorter than this one, as it is difficult to be expressive in 10 or 15 syllables (5 times 2 or 3) while satisfying the constraints of the form with two assonating syllables in each two- or three-syllable line!
While the line length, HoSmoHwI' order, and placement of HoSDaqmey are up to the composer, some combinations are more common than others. This poet has chosen the first and last syllables of the line, a popular combination called veH 'avwI'pu'.[4] The history of Klingon literature includes numerous and divergent theories of the appropriateness, for particular emotional effects and situations, of specific line lengths, HoSmoHwI' tlha'chuqghach, and HoSDaqmey, and there have been at least two blood-feuds and one assassination over these issues. On the other hand, most puSlogh vagh are composed on specific occasions by amateurs, so to speak: Klingons who do not regularly compose poetry, and who tend to ignore poetic theory as so much Dap.
The formal requirements of a puSlogh vagh are summarized in the following table:
| line count | Always 5 |
| line length | Any number of syllables; usually 4-10 Same number in each line |
| HoSmoHwI'mey | A different vowel in each line Any order (HoSmoHwI' tlha'chuqghach) |
| HoSDaqmey | At least 2 per line; usually 2-4 (Name of form incorporates this number) Any positions in line Same positions in each line |
Unlike such Terran verse forms as the sonnet or haiku, the puSlogh vagh is not typically composed as an exercise in the poetic arts or used (except secondarily) as a display of virtuosity. Its composition is almost entirely confined to occasions of strong emotion, especially those emotions whose prolonged expression Klingons consider unseemly. These include love, contentment, and personal grief, as opposed to such warrior-like feelings as honor, vengeance, joy in victory, and grief shared by a clan or by the entire Klingon race.
The form's brevity is appropriate to these social constraints. It is generally agreed that even a vajna' can honorably experience sentiments that are not emphasized in the warrior's philosophy, and Klingons certainly accept the expression of strong emotions. So the existence of a form dedicated to the expression of such emotions is consistent with Klingon culture, but the culture also prefers that the expression be a short one. The attitude toward these emotions might be paraphrased for Terrans as, "If you feel it, let it out, but don't go on about it."
The modern puSlogh vagh form first appears about 750 years ago, in a monumental inscription of the short-lived so-called "Empire of yIrIghan". Allegedly composed by yIrIghan himself, this verse is a true vaghlogh wej in form: five eight-syllable lines with five different HoSmoHwI'mey. The subject matter, however -- the conqueror's satisfaction with the consolidation of his realm -- is still fairly close to the realm of public emotion, and there is a strong strain of vaunting his victories.
When Krovex fell in battle with river pirates, Jabath composed a twelve-syllable loSlogh vagh (an impressive poetic feat) lamenting the loss of an honorable rival and a brave comrade, and recited it at Krovex's funeral rites. "We fought like the sword and the sharpening steel. Sparks flew, but neither was slain. Each became stronger. Which was the steel, which the blade?"
Unfortunately, Krovex's sister Birgtaj (ba'Irghtaj), herself a prominent poet and theorist, refused to accept Jabath's tribute as sincere. According to her theories, which Jabath had never espoused, the combination of HoSmoHwI' tlha'chuqghach and HoSDaqmey that he had used constituted an expression of satisfaction at the resolution of a long-simmering conflict, and therefore the words had to be taken ironically. Under such a reading, the poem constituted a gross insult to Krovex and his family, and Birgtaj declared blood vengeance on Jabath. Jabath apparently considered Birgtaj to be not entirely in her right mind, from grief over her brother's death, and he took the unusual step of publicly apologizing for any grief he might have unintentionally caused. The rest of Krovex's family accepted this, and they dissociated themselves from Birgtaj's challenge. But so far from withdrawing it, Birgtaj insisted on taking even the apology as an insult. She ambushed Jabath and killed him with a spear from behind (the assassination referred to above).
The aftermath was equally tragic, though it ended with honor.
Birgtaj's own family shunned her. Jabath's son almost declared blood-feud but was restrained by his mother, who argued that "the madwoman" would wander homeless for the rest of her days, which would be short and miserable, and that that would be revenge enough.
Birgtaj did indeed wander the countryside alone for several months, living by hunting and by petty raids and thieveries. On a dark night the pirates struck at a strategic causeway near Jabath's clan stronghold. The attackers had the advantage of surprise and numbers, and were close to victory when their chief was killed by a spear thrown from behind. This unexpected reversal broke their rush, and they turned to seek out and fall upon the traitor in their midst. But the spear thrower was Birgtaj, who took three more pirates as her escort to the Black Fleet. Jabath's family rallied and broke out of the encirclement. They harried the attackers from all sides and summoned allies, killing over half the pirates and driving off the rest.
The next morning, when Birgtaj's family came to identify her body, they found these words scratched on her betleH. She had evidently written them with the point of her dagger just before the battle, for the scratches were fresh under the dried blood of the slain:
jIweb'eghmoHpu'
batlhwIj lamHa'moHjaj 'IwwIj tlhIch
The families howled together at her pyre.[5]
The poem was written in the warrior's log under the line 97319 muDDujvo', which may be either a title or simply a log entry of time and place (the string of digits is a date, in a format used throughout the log). While the suffix -vo' usually indicates the place from which a movement originates, in this case it is more sensibly understood as indicating the place from which the phenomena described are seen. The language is standard Klingon of the contemporary Imperial dialect, as described by Dr. Marc Okrand in The Klingon Dictionary (1985 and 1992, Pocket Books) and in other sources as collected by the Klingon Language Institute.
The manuscript shows much crossing-out and rewriting. The poem appears in the midst of the warrior's plans for his mission, and notes beside it hint that he took the events as a good omen, or at least an auspicious start to the undertaking. As noted elsewhere, the MS. shows no indication of geometric design.
'etDaq lIy vIlegh
'o'Daq ngab maSwov
HurghchoH 'engmey Dung
chal mInmey vIvan
'IH ramvam wanI'
At the date of composition of this poem a spectacular comet was visible from the Homeworld, a sight not likely to be repeated in a Klingon lifetime and lasting only a few months. But out of all the nights in those months, this specific night brought also a total lunar eclipse: not nearly so rare, but uncommon and impressive enough to be worth viewing by itself. From the warrior's airborne viewpoint, the darkening of the moon behind him and the cloud tops below counterpoints the beauty of the comet ahead.
Since only a full moon can be eclipsed and the clouds were reflecting its light from below, the disappearance of the moonlight must have significantly improved viewing conditions for the comet as well as for the stars, which he salutes poetically as the night's many scattered eyes. The final line expresses explicitly his pleasure in the events he is observing.
There may be a subtext here. The "eyes" of line 4 may be watching him as he undertakes his mission. Beyond this, the verb van 'salute' evokes the proverbial expression Hovmey Davan, roughly equivalent to "I know that you will honor your word").[6] Is he assuring the watching sky that he will fulfil his sworn duty? The beginning of that fulfillment may be one of the night's beautiful events (line 5). Such an assurance would hardly seem necessary, but without further knowledge of the circumstances of his mission we cannot be sure.
The geometric symmetry of this poem, in which the length of the printed lines increases from line 1 to line 3 and then decreases to line 5, seems to be entirely accidental, even though it is somewhat apparent even in pIqaD. Another example of the form shows no such pattern, and there is no evidence of it in the manuscript.
last modified 99403
